Hawk

(Summer 2002)

Once inside a time
running through sage-brushy sand
loping long-legged
melting, almost,
I heard a hawk.
He circled twice
then dove
and plucked my heart away.
I, not worried, ran on.
I knew he'd bring it back
someday.
Wiping sweat I stepped
into the next tomorrow
and silently strided
down a grassy hill.
Needing something and feeling nothing
I continued still
looking up now and then for the call
of the hawk.
aching for the thing
that was taken
I bounded toward yesterday
but finding the ice cap
deserted and dread
I finally stopped
and laid my head
on the cool, cold, freezing
smooth, shining
surface
of today.
Shivering
I wait.